


a good time for a timeless song

by heyfrenchfreudiana



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Blurb, F/M, i don't know what this is, naughty language mentioned but otherwise pretty tame
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-24
Updated: 2020-07-24
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:26:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25481611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heyfrenchfreudiana/pseuds/heyfrenchfreudiana
Summary: just me working out something in my own mind.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 19
Kudos: 98





	a good time for a timeless song

Making love to her was an experiment; each kiss a carefully measured hypothesis, each touch an uncertain path. When guessed correctly, he got fireworks, the real magic.   
It was in the way she kissed him, the force in her lips that was full of want; tongue darting out like a tease and her body pressed against him like she wanted to absorb him. He didn’t always get that kiss, not after a long mission or when something had been triggered in her mind and then she was a quiet ghost, lost in her own world. Unpredictably, though, there were times he’d lean in and she’d devour him. 

Sometimes making love was like a speeding bullet train, the blood in his body rushing through him and his heart pounding so hard because she was gripping his shirt and giving these soft little moans into his mouth. It flipped a switch, when she was small in his arms and yet needing so much. She was not a woman to be controlled, not the woman a man could or even should order around, but something in her seemed to melt when he got his arms around her tight, when he had a fistful of those curls and her bottom lip in between his teeth. 

They didn’t talk. No banter, not like retconning or sparring on the mat, not like field work at all. No, that was a lie. They did talk, but it was filthy. Fit to be a sin, the things she whispered in his ear, the things he whispered in hers. Adam knew Eve but he doubted they did the things Steve did with Natasha, it didn’t sound biblical even if it was a goddamn miracle. 

Making love to her was a song; was art. The taste of her skin, of her. Rhythm and deep blues. He spent hours daydreaming about it, and each discovery was nothing short of thrilling. When his tongue lapped against her clit or the way she buckled like she’d been hit with lightening when he sucked instead, two fingers inside her and a hand on one breast because Natasha didn’t like anything less than an overwhelming avalanche of sensations. 

“I’m addicted to you,” she once said, hands on his belt and mouth on his shoulder, his hand on the button to her jeans. He nodded, lame headed. He knew what she meant completely. It was like dope, wasn’t it? The high of her. The intoxication. And the come down so awful he was padding careful hellos with his thumbs into midnight text messages to her because he needed more, needed it now. 

“you are the best thing,” he told her solemnly, stroking her back as she pressed her ear to his chest. And she was. Hope, faith in love again, proof that he hadn’t lost it all. She was the best thing, he knew it down to his soul.


End file.
